


Jumpsuit

by rhythmicroman



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: (Even tho its technically canon), Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Angst, Anti-Hero, Bruce is dead lol, Dubious Morality, Eventual Fluff, Grief/Mourning, Harley is also dead, Implied Relationships, Jokester's name is Jackie, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Character Death, Murder, Owlman is Thomas, Revenge, They will eventually be fully mentioned but for now theyre implied
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-06-09 00:31:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15255444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhythmicroman/pseuds/rhythmicroman
Summary: He waved her off, face splitting into a grin. "You'll see, Harley, I'm gonna do great."(And then the sky fell, and she never saw.)





	Jumpsuit

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the twenty one pilots song of the same name, and the disgraceful lack of jackie/harvey fics.

"You're fucking nuts," she sighed.

And, in her defense, she was right; he was notoriously irrational and instinctive - and yet he waved her off, face splitting into a grin. "You'll see, Harley, I'm gonna do great."

_(And then the sky fell, and she never saw.)_

* * *

"You're sick," he muttered to nobody, fingers tracing the graffiti on the side of the ruined club. "Absolutely fucking sick."

_("Catch me if you can, funnyman!", as if Wayne saw this as some joke, as if Harley dying was some sick punchline.)_

Harvey hovered behind him for a second, hand mere millimetres from his shoulder, before straightening up and clearing his throat. "We should go, Jackie. It's not safe out here, without your shit."

Jackie hummed, shifted his coat around his too-pale body, nodded in quiet agreement. He let Harvey intertwine their fingers, and lead him wordlessly down the street.

* * *

The old ruined club was demolished a month later, replaced with a memorial for all who had died there.

Jackie found himself returning again and again, pressing his palms against the engravement of Harley's grave - Harleen Quinzel, beloved friend of many - before Harvey would turn up, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, hair wet with rain.

"Jackie," he'd say, and Jackie would go to him. Nobody had to say anything else, and nobody did, not until they were locked back at home and he found it in him to cry.

* * *

Thomas Wayne Jr had once been loved by many, but now, standing amidst the chaos he'd caused, it was hard to see why.

Jackie clung desperately to Harvey's arm, knuckles turning even whiter. His hair - dyed purple, Harley's favourite colour - hung limply in front of his eyes, soaked with the endless rain.

"You're sick," he said, and reached for his gun. Wayne - Owlman - laughed, rolling his shoulders.

"Then come cure me, funnyman."

_(And Jackie was left in his dust, holding his gun against his side, staring wide eyed at where his enemy used to stand.)_


End file.
